


pretty maids all in a row

by anbethmarie



Category: Anne of Green Gables - L. M. Montgomery, Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, anne is bitter and angsty, anne is marrying roy for his money, anne knows gil broke up with winifred, but they haven't seen each other since 1899 ie graduation, gil is soft and angsty, ignores ep10s3, roy is not very intelligent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:08:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25199026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anbethmarie/pseuds/anbethmarie
Summary: Avonlea, summer 1903.Anne Shirley, determined to obtain the means for completing her university education at any cost, prepares for her imminent wedding to wealthy Royal Gardner.Gilbert Blythe, determined to renew his friendship with a certain redhead he'd been missing a lot, comes home from Toronto for the first time since he left Avonlea four years previously.Angst, absurdity, and a lot of drama ensue.
Relationships: Gilbert Blythe & Anne Shirley, Gilbert Blythe/Anne Shirley
Comments: 73
Kudos: 143





	1. running out of moonlight

‘Anne?’

‘Mhm?’

‘Please don’t get cross with me, but I simply have to ask. Are you—sure?’

‘Sure?’ Anne Shirley repeated sharply, throwing her friend Diana Barry a frowning look over her shoulder from where she sat in front of the latter’s vanity table. ‘Really, Diana, what a question to ask of a radiant bride like myself!’ she added with a somewhat strained attempt at jollity.

It was a Saturday in the first week of August, and in exactly a week’s time Anne was set to marry Royal Gardner, with her childhood friends, Jane, Josie, and Tillie acting as bridesmaids and Diana fulfilling the long-promised role of maid of honour.

It was clearly in this capacity that she was speaking now.

‘I know Roy is a good person-’ she begun unconvincingly, and then, abruptly mustering resolve, started again, on a completely different note, ‘Oh, what’s the use of beating about the bush! I suppose—I suppose you will have heard by now that Gilbert is expected home at the beginning of next week?’

Anne, who was occupied in divesting her hair of the innumerable pins with the help of which Diana had constructed on her head an elaborate coiffure by way practicing the wedding hairdo, froze for just a second, and when Diana caught sight of her face in the vanity mirror its sudden, sickly pallor scared her.

The next second, however, Anne resumed her action, her movements, if anything, swifter and more decided than before.

‘I haven’t heard about it, as a matter of fact,’ she said, her voice indifferent and perfectly level. ‘But I completely fail to see why Gil— what his arrival has to do with _anything_ , and why it makes you talk in this ridiculous, nervous way.’

‘I simply—I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret your whole life,’ Diana stammered miserably. ‘You know Mrs Cuthbert thinks you are way too young to marry anyway.’

Anne looked up and met her eyes in the mirror, and her gaze was cold.

‘Too young to marry in general? Or to marry Roy particularly?’

Diana bit her lip. ‘I just want you to know that if you decided to call if all off—even this late—I would be on your side—‘

‘ _Call it off_?’ Anne's voice sounded just a little shriller than usual. She got up and turned to confront Diana, two crimson spots burning high on her otherwise pale cheeks. ‘Why? Because Gilbert Blythe is coming home?’

Diana stood her ground. ‘You know there are some unresolved things between you—‘ she began quietly.

Anne let out a scornful little laugh.

‘There is—there never has been—anything whatever between me and—him. Nothing’ She turned to snatch up her purse from where it was lying on Diana’s bed and took a few abrupt steps towards the door whilst her friend stood looking on with a half-frightened, half-mournful expression. ‘Besides, you have no right to drag out childish confessions I made to you years ago, and in a state of half-insanity at that,’ she added acidly. ‘I’ll be obliged if you never speak about—him—to me like this ever again. See you at church tomorrow.’

***

The weather was cool for July, and by the time Anne had reached Green Gables the feverish colour in her cheeks had died down—which did not mean she was not in a state of complete inner turmoil, because she was. Blotting out all others was the thought, _If only he was coming a week later. When it was all over. Then it would be too late._

 _But it is already too late_ , a small voice at the back of her head whispered meanly. _In a week from now you’ll be Mrs Gardner, and nothing can change that now. Certainly not any Gilbert Blythe nonsense._

This thought came to her just as she was opening the front door to her house, and made her enter in a mood of decisiveness mixed with extreme irritation.

Marilla looked up from the table and raised her eyes at Anne’s drawn face. ‘Is anything wrong, child? You look peaky.’

Anne deigned no reply to this. A small grey envelope lying on the dresser by the door caught her eye. It was a telegram addressed to Miss A. Shirley.

She reached for it.

‘Came just a minute ago, by the afternoon post,’ she heard Marilla say as she tore open the flimsy envelope.

BORED AS HELL NOTHING TO DO HERE COMING MONDAY AFTERNOON WAIT AT THE STATION CANT WAIT TO SEE YOU HONEY ROY

‘I hope it’s no bad news.’

Anne looked up, her eyes flashing in the dimness of the room.

‘No. It’s not.’

‘I have some good news as well,’ Marilla went on and Anne knew, as soon as she the anxiously cheerful note in her voice, what she was going to say. ‘You’ll never guess who’s coming home next week! On Monday afternoon, actually!’

Anne simply looked back at her impassively.

‘Gilbert Blythe! Isn’t that wonderful news!’

Something inside Anne seemed to snap.

‘Wonderful,’ she hissed, meeting Marilla’s searching look with a steely one of her own. ‘Do you know who else is coming down on Monday? Roy. My fiancé. Do you remember such a person, or has the thought of the glorious return of master Blythe erase all else from your mind?’

‘Anne, there’s no need to get upset—‘

‘And you know what, Marilla? I sincerely hope when I go pick him up we might be lucky enough to meet Mr Blythe, so that I might have the pleasure of inviting him to our wedding without delay. You’re welcome to tell that anyone who asks. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to lie down. My head is splitting from all those damned pins Diana keeps sticking in my hair.’

‘Anne! Mind your language, please!’

But Anne was already slamming the door of her room shut, her whole body trembling with anger.

***

As she leant against the closed door, Anne’s eyes inevitably fell onto the biggest object in the room, which was the bed.

She stared and stared at it as though this was the first time she ever saw it, and felt cold, sickly panic rise within her.

_In a week from now, this won’t be my bed anymore. I’ll have another bed. A marital bed. A bed I’ll have to share with Roy._

_Not just share – perform wifely duties in._

The thought made her want to scream.

Of course she had realised before that intercourse was one of the things marriage entailed. But heretofore it had always been something so distant, and presumably not to be thought of on pain of committing a sin, and better so.

But soon – so soon she could actually start counting the hours – she would be obliged, _bound by a holy vow_ , not just to _think about_ , but to actually _do it_. With Roy.

And how could she do it, when she had to keep herself from flinching whenever he took her hand in his? When she had virtually cringed the first time he kissed her, and had been doing her best to avoid a recurrence of that activity ever since?

It had been pleasant enough to be singled out by him, to feel admired and wanted, especially after that terrible debacle of a fair which, although it happened so long ago, she still hadn’t, to her extreme shame, managed to get over?

Back then, Gilbert Blythe had made her feel second-best, undesirable, ugly.

Now, Roy was making her feel beautiful and rare. And yet she could not bring herself to contemplate marriage to him as actual lived reality without feeling faint with panic and repulsion.

 _Perhaps I’m just made that way,_ she thought desperately. _I never liked anyone touching me. I’ll have to get used to it, that’s all._

But she realised immediately this was not true. She did not mind it when Marilla stroked her cheek caressingly, or when Diana hugged her, or when her friends played with her hair.

And, most importantly and shamefully, she had very emphatically not minded it when Gilbert Blythe had touched her, when he had held her hand in his so carefully, delicately, as though it was glass, during that accursed dance practice all those years ago. She had never minded his proximity the way she did Roy’s; instead, it had made her feel as though there was a force drawing her closer to him, just to feel the heat of his skin on hers.

Her cheeks burning at the thought, her heart beating hard with anger and shame, Anne went over to her narrow, white maiden bed and, throwing herself down on it, covered her face with her hands and lay very still.


	2. this ain't the end of nothing much

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> :D :D

Anne did not cry that night, aware that tomorrow at church all eyes would be trained on her and that a radiant bride-to-be was not supposed to have a face puffy with unrestrained tears.

Still, she barely slept, and in the morning her eyes, feverishly bright, were encircled by deep bluish shadows. But then, nervous was what brides were expected to be, so that was all right.

Except Marilla did not seem to think it was.

‘You look ill, child,’ she said as soon as Anne came downstairs.

‘I’m not,’ Anne said laconically. ‘I told you my head aches.’

‘That was yesterday.’

‘Well, it hasn’t stopped.’

Marilla pursed her lips. After a few moments’ strained silence, she said abruptly,

‘Anne, I didn’t want to bother you about it yesterday, but where does Roy plan to put up until Saturday?’

Anne looked up with raised eyebrows. ‘Why, here, of course.’

‘That’s impossible, and you know it.’

‘Don’t fuss, Marilla,’ Anne said coolly. ‘He’s marrying me in a week’s time—‘

‘Anne, that doesn’t change anything,’ the older woman interrupted decisively. ‘It would not be decent, and I won’t allow it.’

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake! As though I was so very eager to—‘ she stopped, and gave a scornful laugh. ‘Honestly, Marilla, let him sleep in the barn for all I care. Just don’t badger me about this any more today. I can have one last Sunday of peace, can’t I?’

With that, she strode towards the front door, ignoring Marilla’s expression of mingled anxiety and disapproval.

‘I’m going to take the longer way to church. I need some fresh air.’

As the door banged closed, Marilla sat down heavily in the nearest chair and let out a long, dismayed sigh.

***

Escaping from Diana and Marilla’s identical, disapprovingly anxious glances into the blessed seclusion of Hester Gray’s garden, Anne got through the Sunday somehow, her time spent mainly in walking agitatedly amongst the fragrant blossoms and working herself up into a state of almost equal resentment against both Gilbert and Roy.

The latter was a fool for having asked her to marry him at all. Anne was certain he must realise she did not love him. Damn it, she had told him, in so many words, that the fact that by marrying him she would be able to continue her studies at Redmond was what had finally induced her to agree to become his wife at such a young age.

Here Anne’s face hardened a little, for it was a particular point of honour with her to maintain that she did not think it wrong to marry for such mercenary reasons. There was a time when Gilbert Blythe had not thought it wrong, and she was determined she wouldn’t either.

As for Gilbert, she had by now managed to convince herself that, had not been for his prospective arrival, she _would_ call her marriage to Roy off.

It did not matter that oceans of money had been spent on the arrangements for the wedding, money she could not reasonably hope to be able to either retrieve or repay; it did not matter that her bridal gown and veil were at this very moment waiting their hour hung up in her closet at Green Gables. The whole thing seemed more like a fantastic impossibility every moment. Surely, she could not actually go and pledge herself to live till death do them part with someone she did not love.

But if she called it off now, everyone would assume her decision had to do with Gilbert Blythe’s return home.

And _that_ her pride could not stand.

***

‘Excuse me, is this seat empty?’

Gilbert looked up and saw a tall, exquisitely dressed man about his own age standing in the gangway with an expression of polite enquiry on his handsome, over-refined face.

‘Yes.’

The stranger sat down. The train pulled out of the station.

They were leaving Charlottetown behind, and the next stop would be _home_.

‘Down from the U of T?’ the man asked in his slow, drawling voice, eyeing the label on Gilbert’s trunk.

‘Yes.’

‘Ah. I’m at Redmond myself. It’s admittedly less of an _international_ scholarly centre, but I would be a fool to regret going there. That’s where I met my fiancée.’

‘Indeed?’ Gilbert said politely. The bloke was evidently starved for conversation, and Gilbert was too happy to be going home to begrudge him the comfort of boasting about fiancées. There was no risk of his being envious of anyone’s marriage prospects, that was for sure.

‘Yes. We met in English Literature lectures. She is one of the most _inspired_ people I’ve ever met. Her enthusiasm for beauty in all things is truly unsurpassed.’

 _I can bet you I know one person who could surpass it_ , Gilbert thought with a small, involuntary smile.

God, did he miss her. Her eyes, sometimes – when she daydreamed with particular intensity – so pale and unfocused, and at other times sharp and sparkling like steel. Her glorious, fiery—

‘—red, or perhaps I ought rather to say _titian_ , hair. They are truly an element of nature all in themselves.’

Gilbert stared.

‘Pardon?’ he asked, forcing his thoughts away from visions of eyes of steel and hair of fire.

‘My fiancée’s hair. It’s hue is the only truly titian shade I’ve ever encountered. I tell her it looks straight out of a work of art, and she still persists in disliking it, and wishing it was some less extravagant colour. Truly, women are a mystery, don’t you find?’

‘Certainly,’ Gilbert replied without very much knowing what he said. A small shiver went through him, as though of foreboding, but he shook it off instantly. _It’s not as though there was only one red-haired girl in the world_ , he told himself firmly _. Even if for you, you poor moke, there is one and one only_ , a quiet little voice at the back of his head, very much like Sebastian’s in tone, added.

They were nearing Bright River, and Gilbert suddenly felt rather nervous. What if – just possibly – Anne happened to be at the station, waiting for someone? He had no idea how she might react to seeing him – for the first time since she got his letter.

 _The receipt of which she never acknowledged_ , he reminded himself soberly.

Well, she hadn’t; but then, he had told her he expected no answer.

And all really he wanted was her friendship, he told himself firmly. He would have that, if he couldn’t have anything else. Anything more.

He saw that his travelling companion was also preparing to get off the train.

‘I’m headed to Avonlea,’ he said, catching Gilbert’s eye. ‘Don’t you know whether it’s a long walking distance from this station?’

‘Avonlea?’ Gilbert repeated rather stupidly. Did the bloke’s fiancée live in Avonlea? Who could it _possibly_ be? It seemed to Gilbert impossible that even the silliest of his childhood classmates could desire to spend a lifetime with a guy like this. ‘No, it’s barely a half hour’s walk.’

‘Ah. That’s splendid. Here we are.’

And he signalled to Gilbert to precede him out of the compartment.


	3. my heart keeps racing, racing still

As Anne stood waiting on the Bright River platform, decked out in her newest blue muslin dress and a light straw hat, she had a very decided sense of unreality. She was increasingly inclined to believe that she had dreamed Diana and Marilla’s revelations about Gilbert’s return. It was simply beyond her to think of him as actually coming towards her on a train which would be here any minute and not hundreds of miles away in Toronto.

The whistle of an incoming engine sounded in the near distance.

Anne’s heart beat in her throat.

The train puffed slowly into the station. The carriage doors were opening.

Anne’s vision went blurry.

And then, suddenly, it went very, very sharp.

Because there, mere meters away from her, was Gilbert. He saw her almost immediately he alighted, and stood frozen to the spot, his face unreadable.

‘Anne, honey, are you all right?’

Roy wrapped his arm around her shoulders just about in time to keep her knees from buckling under her trembling body.

She lifted her eyes to his face.

‘Yes,’ she breathed, trying to summon a smile. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s come over me. I’m all right now.’

She tried to disentangle herself from his arm, but he simply held her closer and kissed her full on the lips.

‘Roy,’ she whispered agitatedly, pulling away with as much delicacy as she could muster, her mind a riot of half-formed thoughts. Was Gilbert still there? Had he really seen her, or had she imagined it? Had he ever really been there at all? ‘Roy, we’re in full view of—‘

He chuckled with patronising affection, stoking her cheek. ‘Of whom? There’s barely anyone here at all.’

As though to prove his point, he looked round, and caught sight of Gilbert.

‘—barely anyone except my travelling companion there, and I’m sure he doesn’t mind,’ Roy laughed, to Anne’s unutterable horror signalling to Gilbert to come up to them. ‘Allow me to introduce you to miss Anne Shirley, my fiancée, whose praises I’ve been singing all through the journey.’

***

When Gilbert first stepped out onto the platform and saw the tall figure, who seemed more like a vision of pale blue and deep red, standing a few meters away, he felt fairly certain he was hallucinating.

It was only when Anne locked eyes with him that he knew she was real, and that he was home. Because she was home.

And then, out of nowhere it seemed, the guy who had taken the seat opposite him in Charlottetown went up to her, put his arm around her, and kissed her on the mouth.

Gilbert’s mind went numb, and it was only slowly that he realised than an old lady who had also got off the train was asking him the way to – somewhere, he hardly knew where although he answered her enquiry coherently enough.

And then he saw that the man who had just kissed Anne Shirley was waving him to come over to where he stood with his arm still draped possessively around her shoulders.

Gilbert obeyed. His eyes swept quickly over Anne’s face – she was not looking at him, she was gazing at the ground – and a sharp pang went through his heart when he saw how tired, how fragile she looked.

He transferred his gaze to her companion, and made an effort at concentration.

The guy was telling him Anne was his fiancée.

***

‘Gilbert—Mr Blythe—and I—we know each other,’ Anne blurted out, with an enormous effort of will lifting her eyes off the ground to meet Gilbert’s gaze.

He looked back at her, his brows wrinkled in – what? confusion? surprise? it was impossible to tell. She looked away, his eyes on hers making her want to do—she hardly knew what. She didn’t know anything anymore.

‘We were at school together,’ she explained in answer to Roy’s inquiring glace. ‘Here, in Avonlea.’

‘Ah, I see. Well, Mr—Blythe, was it?’

‘Call me Gilbert. Anne and I are old friends.‘

Anne controlled the impulse to look at him again. _Friends_! How strange that sounded. Had they ever really been friends? It was all such a long time ago – and yet Gilbert’s voice made her feel like she was back by the firelight of their graduation night, listening to him pulling her apart with explanations of how marriage to Winifred could be the means to accomplishing all his goals—

The memory had the effect of rekindling the resentment she had talked herself into feeling against both the young men who at the moment stood by her side.

With a suddenness which surprised even herself, she straightened herself up and, shaking off Roy’s arm, reached up, cupped his face, and kissed him.

Yes. Right in front of Gilbert Blythe. It was a rather perfunctory kiss, but it was also one placed right on Roy’s lips.

She pulled away and took his hand without looking at the other man.

‘Let’s go,’ she said decisively. ‘Marilla’s waiting for us with tea. And there’s a small matter she’s being silly about, so that you’ll have to try to talk her round.’

‘What’s that?’ Roy asked somewhat wearily. ‘Come on, Blythe! Aren’t we going in the same direction?’

On a sudden, wholly evil impulse, Anne turned round as well, and gave Gilbert a smile.

‘Yes, come on, Gilbert,’ she said invitingly.

She had the satisfaction of seeing him look considerably upset. It did not afford her the pleasure she had expected, but she was now set on a course of merciless brazenness, and felt rather as though it was not she, but some external force who was guiding her speech and actions.

Gilbert caught up with them, walking on Roy’s other side.

‘You’ll come to our wedding, won’t you, Blythe?’ Roy asked.

‘I—‘

‘Oh, you have to. All of Anne’s friends’ are more than welcome. Tell him he must come, Anne.’

Anne looked over at Gilbert with bright eyes and a very wide smile into which her lips had stretched of their own accord.

‘Of course you must,’ she said in a twittering voice which she did not recognise as her own. ‘It’s on Saturday.’

Gilbert looked back at her blankly. Anne’s unnatural smile did not falter.

‘This Saturday?’ he asked eventually.

‘Yes!’ she affirmed with a light, self-pleased laugh, the sound of which made her wonder madly whether she might be actually possessed. ‘It’s such luck you’ve come home just in time to attend it.’

Gilbert blinked slowly, and then quickly looked away.

‘Yes, great luck indeed.’

Anne felt Roy’s arm steal around her waist and draw her closer to his side. She felt rather sick.

‘Darling, what’s that thing you said Marilla was being silly about?’ he asked.

‘Oh, just some nonsense about how you’re not to be allowed to sleep at Green Gables,’ Anne answered absently, her mind busy replaying the look on Gilbert’s face. Could it possibly have been anything but stark surprise at someone like Roy wanting to marry her – plain, poor Anne Shirley? ‘You know how we provincial people can make a fuss of anything.’

It was only when his hand tugged on hers that she realised Roy had stopped walking. She turned to him somewhat impatiently, careful to avoid Gilbert’s face as she did so.

‘But darling, you can’t possibly expect me to want to cross your mother on such a point?’ Roy said with what Anne felt to be tiresome pedantry. ‘Of course her sense of propriety must be respected. I’ll have to put up someplace else, that’s all.’

‘Yes, by all means do so,’ Anne answered with ill-disguised asperity. ‘Only I have no idea where. I cannot possibly ask Diana to take you in.’

‘Well—‘ Roy looked round as though for inspiration, and then his face brightened. Anne realised, with a sudden sinking feeling, that he was looking towards where Gilbert was awkwardly standing a little aside from them, his hands in his pockets. ‘Of course! Blythe, don’t you have a spare room a fellow might put up in for a few nights?’

Anne could hardly believe her ears. This could not be happening.

She made herself look at Gilbert, and it seemed to her some of her own dismayed disbelief was reflected in his face. But then he smiled, and said in a quite natural, level voice,

‘Of course. As a matter of fact, my family are away on holiday, so it will not be a problem at all.’

‘Gilbert,’ Anne began impulsively, taking a step towards him, and he looked at her with a sudden change of expression from carefully neutral to – what? startled? expectant? Whatever it was, it made her heart race and her tongue stumble over the simplest words. ‘You don’t have to—‘

‘Look who’s fussing now, Anne,’ Roy said with amusement right behind her, making Anne fall silent and tear her eyes away from Gilbert’s. ‘But pray rest assured. Blythe shall name his fee.’

‘No need for that, Gardner.’ Did she imagine it, or was there just the slightest edge to Gilbert’s voice? ‘Anne and her parents got my family though some really difficult times, and to put up her—fiancé—for a few nights is the least I can do in return.’

Anne felt Gilbert’s eyes on her face, but dared not look up.

‘Splendid. That’s settled then. Come on, honey. What’s wrong? Are you feeling faint again?’

Anne merely shook her head, not looking up from where her eyes were glued to the dusty road.

Basically, she wished she had never been born.


	4. in loneliness my only fear, night's here

Roy lost no time in assuring Marilla her dilemma had been put a satisfactory end to.

‘Miss Cuthbert,’ he said by way of hello as soon as he had crossed the threshold. ‘Pray welcome me with arms fully open. My sleeping arrangements are suitably taken care of.’

‘Why, Mr Gardner, I certainly never intended to actually turn you out—‘

‘Please call me Roy. We’re practically family already.’

Anne met Marilla’s eye and quickly looked away.

‘And—where do you plan to stay? Not—‘

‘Not in the barn Marilla, no,’ Anne put in snappishly.

Roy looked at her with politely lifted brows. ‘What’s that, love?’

‘Nothing. Go on.’

‘Well, by extremely lucky coincidence, we met Anne’s old friend at the station, and he agreed to take me in.’

Marilla gave Anne an inquiring look.

‘Gilbert Blythe,’ Anne said flatly.

‘What? You met him?’ Marilla exclaimed with, to Anne’s mind, way too much enthusiasm, enthusiasm she never showed while talking to, much less about, Roy. ‘And—is he all right? How is looking?’

‘How is he _supposed_ to be looking? Exactly the same as always. Not that I really noticed him much,’ Anne added peevishly, and was instantly angry with herself for doing so.

Marilla pursed her lips. ‘Not particularly talkative, are you?’

‘I’m just tired,’ Anne huffed. ‘Let’s go eat something. I have to take Roy over to – Gilbert’s – house when we’ve done, so please let us hurry.’

‘Your wish is my command, love. Miss Cuthbert, will you lead the way?’

***

As Gilbert wandered somewhat aimlessly around his empty house, dog-tired from the long journey and yet so upset by the events of the train station that it was impossible for him to keep still, there were two things he wondered about particularly.

The first was how he could ever have kept away from Anne Shirley for four years the way he had done: for now that he _had_ seen her again, every minute of _not_ seeing her seemed to him pointless.

The second was how he could have been so unutterably foolish as to think he and Anne could be _just friends_. For, ever since he’d learnt that she had a fiancé – the thought did something funny to his stomach – he realised that he only wanted to be her _friend_ on condition his friendship was the most important relationship in her life, second perhaps only to her love for Marilla and Diana, which somehow did not belong in the same category as her relationship to himself.

His idea of being _just friends_ with Anne certainly never included the presence in her life of a fiancé – a fiancé who was to become her husband in _five days_.

However much he tried, he could not bring himself to believe in this as a fact. In five days, the only woman he ever loved – ever could love – would become indissolubly united to another man.

He wanted to scream.

He probably would have screamed, but at that moment he caught sight through a nearby window of two figures approaching the house, one of whom was carrying a small suitcase.

Anne. Anne and Roy, her fiancé.

In another moment, there was a knock on the door.

In yet another, Gilbert stood face to face with a tense-looking Anne and a smug Roy.

When Anne met his gaze, something changed in her face: her eyes widened, she bit her lip, and it seemed to Gilbert that she might start to cry. He had actually raised his hand with the vague intention of touching her shoulder in comfort, but at that moment Roy spoke, and Anne, her expression resuming her former shut-down look, glanced away.

‘Well? Perhaps could could show me the way, Blythe?’

‘Of course,’ Gilbert said quickly, out of the tail of his eye noticing Anne step down from the threshold and lean against the wall, her eyes closed and her face upturned to the afternoon sunshine. ‘Come on up.’

***

Anne stood leaning against wall, and it seemed to her that the frantic beating of her heart must be causing her body to throb visibly.

For she had almost broken down right there, in front of Gilbert Blythe.

Because of Gilbert Blythe.

Because of how his presence pointed up every single thing which made Roy so difficult for her to be with. During the course of the tea, she had worked herself into a state of such annoyance with his pedantic, complacent manner of taking that she had to clench her jaw to stop herself from telling him to _shut up_ – and then Gilbert gave her one look, a look of such earnest, serious, quiet concern she could feel the tears well up in her throat, and wanted nothing more than for him to hold her and keep her close and still.

‘Anne? Are you all right?’

She almost jumped out of her skin, and when she opened her eyes she was so startled by Gilbert’s sudden closeness that she was glad of the support the wall offered to her enervated body.

‘Have you been crying?’ he asked, his eyes scanning her face anxiously, and when Anne automatically put her fingers up to her cheek she found that indeed it was wet with tears.

Annoyance quite out of proportion to this fact sprung up in her in under Gilbert’s worried, searching look.

‘It’s nothing,’ she said sharply. ‘It’s just that the sun was in my eyes too much.’

He frowned, and she instantly regretted her tone.

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound—like this,’ she said quickly, looking away from him under the pretence of wiping her cheeks. ‘It’s just that—I’ve been rather tired lately, and I suppose it’s starting to show.’

‘Your— Gardner oughtn’t to let you run yourself down like this.’

Anne merely shrugged, and then, looking up again, said earnestly,

‘Gilbert, I haven’t properly thanked you for allowing him to stay here. It’s really—‘

‘It’s nothing,’ he cut in, and she was startled by the curtness of his tone. This must have shown in her face, for Gilbert’s expression softened immediately, and he said in a kind of hurried, intense kind of way, ‘Anne, I do wish you all the best, you know.’

For a moment, she merely gazed back into his gentle eyes. Then she heard the gravel crunch under his foot as he took a step toward her, and this woke her up.

With a sharp intake of breath, Anne turned her face away.

‘You must have missed Avonlea all those years you were away,’ she said, blurting out the first thing that came to her mind.

She saw him move to lean against the wall next to her and look around at yard they were facing.

‘I did.’

‘Then why didn’t you come back sooner?’ she asked, and her voice was small.

Gilbert turned to look at her, and his pupils seemed to her unnaturally dark. Then, swallowing hard, he looked away and said,

‘Well, a railroad ticket from Toronto costs a small fortune, you know. And most of the holidays I worked internships anyway.’

‘Oh.’

‘And you? Where are you going to live?’

‘Live?’ she repeated, looking up with a confused frown.

His face was oddly drawn when he said, ‘After your marriage, you know.’

‘Oh,’ Anne felt a burning blush creep up her neck to her face under his gaze. ‘Of course. Yes. Well, we’re going back to Redmond, actually. To study.’

It did her good to remember this, the reason she was doing this. _To study_. To cultivate and broaden her mind. _Just like Gilbert has been doing in Toronto, with never a thought of coming back to see you in four long years_ , she reminded herself bitterly.

‘That is . . . very nice,’ said Gilbert lamely, stuttering under Anne’s suddenly angry glance.

‘Indeed. So, as you see, Roy and I are perfectly suited to each other. He understand my desire to continue to live my own independent life after we get married.’

Anne said this in a heated, decisive tone, but the truth was that she did not believe that Roy understood anything about her at all, and immediately the bleakness of the prospect of living with him forever engulfed her mind, and she had to turn away to hide the recurrence of her treacherous, frustrated tears.

‘Anne. Hey. If something’s wrong, you know you can always tell me.’

She felt Gilbert’s hand touch her bare arm right above her elbow, and jerked away as though stung, throwing him a look of such pure bitterness it made him recoil.

‘Anne, darling, would you care for a walk before we separate for the night?’ Roy asked brightly, emerging from the doorway.

Anne turned sharply away from the discomfited Gilbert and towards her husband-to-be. She felt her lips form the artificial smile which seemed fast to be becoming her accustomed expression.

‘I’d love to, darling,’ she said, and ever Roy looked startled by the unusually affectionate tone in which she spoke to him.


	5. this dream isn't feeling sweet

‘—well, Anne, what do you think?’

Anne started, called out of a daydream in which she didn’t break away from Gilbert’s gentle touch on her arm and instead pulled him closer and kissed him – a daydream which, needless to say, was as vivid as it was embarrassing.

‘What about?’

Mrs Lynde threw her a reproachful look.

‘Really, Anne don’t you think it’s time you came down to earth? You’ll be a married woman in four days’ time, for heaven’s sake!’

‘Let her be, Rachel,’ Eliza Barry said with an indulgent smile. ‘Don’t you think that that is why she’s so absent-minded? After all, there are some new experiences in stock for her.’

Anne, who had begun by giving Mrs Barry a grateful smile, finished by going very pale as soon as the purport of the latter’s words came home to her. The special tone she had used could only mean one thing.

_Wifely duties. Duties she owed to Roy._

Noticing the girl’s distraught expression, Mrs Barry exchanged a meaningful smile with the older woman, and then said softly,

‘Anne, there is no reason to be worried. I’m certain Roy will prove a good, gentle husband to you.’

‘I’m not worried,’ Anne said abruptly, raising from the chair she had been seated on. ‘I’m just tired. It’s gotten so late. Don’t you think we could—put this off?’

It was Tuesday evening, and she had been harassed by Mrs Lynde and Mrs Barry into going once more through the wedding reception menu in order to make sure that the Avonlea dishes they took pride in were given as prominent a place on it as the foreign delicacies Roy’s mother had insisted on including. Anne, who would have been temperamentally incapable of taking an interest in a proceeding of this kind even if it concerned an event to which she was genuinely looking forward, was enduring veritable tortures of boredom and irritation.

Her precious time of being Anne Shirley was being squandered in considerations of whether the shepherd’s pie should come before or after some kind of French casserole or other. It was madness, and she was determined to put an end to it.

‘Put it off? Bless you, my child, put it off for _when_?’

‘Well then, couldn’t you finish without me? I really feel so much in need of some fresh air,’ Anne said, capping the plea with an exaggerated sigh.

Mrs Lynde pinched her lips, but softer-hearted Eliza Barry said,

‘All right, darling, but promise not to dawdle about too much. Best run home and get some sleep. You will want to get rid of those circles under your eyes before Saturday.’

Anne, who felt that she wouldn’t like anything better than to make not only the dark circles, but her very person disappear off the face of the earth before that fateful day, gave another grateful smile and fled from the room before anything could prevent her escape.

***

She walked on quickly, focused on the movement of her body more than on the direction she was going, except to take care to choose a path on which she would not run the danger of encountering anyone.

Anyone who might want to talk to her about her wedding, which was in _four days_. About what luck she had in marrying Roy – when for the moment even the thought of having to see and talk to him at all made her feel more tired than she already was.

_I can’t go through with it_ , she thought desperately. _I’ll die if I go through with it._

She tripped, and for the first time since she’d set out raised her eyes and noticed her surroundings.

She was at the ruins. The place where, four years ago, she got drunk off her head celebrating the sitting of the Queen’s examinations. The place where Gilbert Blythe told her that she, Anne Shirley, was standing in the way of his dreams. The place she had avoided ever since, the memory of that night too bitter to be revisited voluntarily.

Anne walked slowly up to the centre of the enclosed space, where there still stood a circle of dilapidated wooden benches.

She sat down, put her chin in her hands, and wondered whether this place had ever before or since been the scene of a humiliation similar to the one Gilbert Blythe had made her suffer.

Probably not. Not many girls were as naive and hopeful as she had been. Good for them.

‘Well, at least you’ve learnt to keep your imagination reined in,’ Anne said to herself with a melancholy sigh. ‘Now you’re anything but unpractical.’

‘Hello? Who’s there? Is that you, Anne?’

Anne jumped up, and immediately wished she had stayed still and silent and hoped he might go away.

‘Are you dumb, or what?’ she demanded somewhat shrilly as Gilbert Blythe’s approached her thorough the graying twilight. ‘You can’t just sneak up on people like that!’

He gave an uncertain laugh. ‘Anne, I didn’t sneak up. I just saw you, or rather heard you, and thought I might just—‘

‘Of course! You always think you _might just_!’

He blinked, as though blinded by the anger in her voice and her face.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said eventually, drawn and reserved. ‘I won’t bother you any more. Goodnight.’

A wave of bitterness and regret so enormous is physically choked gathered up in Anne’s throat as she watched him turn away, and on a desperate impulse she caught at his hand.

‘Gilbert, wait,’ she pleaded, fighting off tears. ‘Don’t let’s part like this. I don’t want us to part like this.’

He was regarding her with a grave, intent gaze, and she felt his fingers tighten around hers.

‘I don’t either,’ he said, very softly.

For a moment they stood gazing at each other silently. Then, Anne took a shuddering breath and turned her face away, pulling her hand out of Gilbert’s grasp.

‘This place hasn’t changed at all since—since we graduated,’ she said lamely, for the sake of saying something and breaking the painfully intense silence. ‘Look, there’s even that graffiti Moody and Charlie made!’ she added, pointing to where red lettering of CLASS OF 1899 THE BEST could just be discerned on a derelict wall.

‘Yeah,’ Gilbert said, and she saw to her relief that he was smiling in a quite natural kind of way. ‘Can you believe that was over four years ago?’

‘Ages ago, more like it. We thought ourselves all grown up, and we were still only such silly kids.’

‘Really, Miss Shirley, not all of us were _silly_ ,’ he said with mock seriousness, and Anne looked up at him with a small laugh. ‘I would not apply that particular adjective to myself, nor to you either.’

‘Oh, I was the silliest of all,’ she replied, and it came out more wistful than she’d meant it. ‘Anyway,’ she went on quickly, alarmed at the change in his expression turning away under the pretext of looking round once again. ‘It really seems like a lifetime ago to me. So much has changed since then.’

‘Some things haven’t,’ he said, she froze at the gentleness of his voice.

_You’re imagining it_ , she told herself firmly. _You’re imagining it, just like you did in this same place four years ago, because you’d like to believe he would actually speak to you in this way._

_And you must not let your imaginings spoil this. You must try and part with him on a friendly note. If anything can help you get through Saturday, the thought that he respects you and thinks of you as a friend might._

Accordingly, she forced herself to utter in a casual tone the first inanity that came into her mind.

‘Yes, some things never change. For example, my hatred of maths. If anything, it’s gotten even worse since the incentive of trying not to fall behind you was taken away.’

Anne looked up with a smile as she said that, only to be met by a look of electrifying intensity on Gilbert’s part, at which her breath actually caught a little in her throat.

_You ridiculous little fool. He’s probably just wondering what a person as dense about basic arithmetic as you are can possibly want with a university education._

‘So, you did mind my absence? At least in this one respect?’

_Is he doing this on purpose?_ Anne wondered as a small spark of irritation shot through he, mingling with wry amusement at Gilbert wondering whether she “minded” his absence. _Is he trying to see how far he can push me? Well, he won’t get whatever satisfaction he’s hoping to get._

‘I never really minded it,’ she said as equably as her somewhat tight throat would let her. ‘Most of us will have to move on from here sooner or later, and of course you’re doing it in order to fulfil your dreams.’

Gilbert did not reply, and as Anne was scared of looking at him again for fear the unsettling expression had not left his eyes and might make her say or do something stupid, she moved instead to sit down on one of the dilapidated benches, making a show of stretching out her legs and letting out a profound sigh as she closed her eyes and threw her head back a little, breathing in the cool evening air.

‘You have no idea how tiring it is, preparing for a wedding,’ she said, acting on the bright notion that it was time Gilbert was reminded she was getting married in a rapidly shrinking space of time. ‘If I could have my way, there would be none of this fuss, just a plain ceremony and the smallest possible reception afterwards.’

‘Why can’t you?’

Anne opened her eyes, and looked with a frown back into Gilbert’s inscrutable face. He had come to sit next to her, just far enough away for their thighs not to touch.

‘Why can’t I what?’

‘Have things the way you want them to be.’

‘Well, there’s another person whose wishes I have to consider, isn’t there?’

She saw the line of Gilbert’s jaw tighten, and it did something funny to her stomach. She looked away.

‘Doesn’t _he_ have to consider _you_?’ he asked with a jeering note to his tone with made Anne draw back a give him a sharp look.

‘But you know very well that he does,’ she said, hating him for having put her on the defensive. ‘I told you he’s all right with my continuing college after we get married.’

Gilbert let out a mirthless little laugh with made Anne flinch. She had the feeling that, while in this completely un-Gilbert-like mood of complete recklessness, there was no telling what he might do or say.

And it caused her to feel at once afraid and thrilled, and she hated herself for it.

‘Indeed, you did tell me. So very generous of him.’

He was openly jeering now, and Anne found it hard to recognise him in the hard-faced man who confronted her.

‘I think you’re forgetting yourself, Gilbert,’ she said, her voice as dispassionate as she could make it. ‘You really oughtn’t to speak to me in this way about a man I’m about to marry.’

‘What am I supposed to do, then?’ he demanded, getting up abruptly and staring down at the with an expression so savage it made her tremble. ‘Pretend that I’m all right with the thought of you being the wife of a guy like that?’

Gathering up all her resolve, Anne got up and looked back at him with glittering eyes.

‘You’re supposed not to insult me by insulting him,’ she said, internally wondering whence she’d got the ability to speak so coolly when Gilbert stood before her looking half-mad. ‘And now you’ll excuse me. This conversation has gone on too long already. I hope that when you’ve thought better of it you’ll realise how impertinent your words and manner have been, and repent of them. Goodnight.’

She turned to leave, but before she had taken two steps his fingers wrapped round her wrist in a steely grasp, pulling her back and forcing her to face him.

‘Repent it?’ he asked, and he had drawn her so close that she could feel his rapidly moving chest against her own body. ‘Repent what, Anne? Do you serious think I’ll ever accept your marriage to another man, and a man who is incapable of understanding or appreciating you at that?’

‘You’re a fine one to talk!’ she cried, her voice dripping with bitterness. ‘When you’d raised my hopes again and again only to drop me the second a wealthy belle looked your way!’

‘Drop you?’ Gilbert repeated, angrily incredulous, while Anne looked right back with unflinching defiance. ‘Anne, it’s you who rebuffed me every time I tried to get closer to you! You did all your best to make it clear you didn’t care for me in the least!’

To Anne, who had schooled herself in the belief that her love for Gilbert must have been obvious to all and sundry and made her the object of ridicule when he had shown himself with Winnie and then departed for Toronto without showing the least willingness to keep in touch with her, this statement seemed so palpably absurd that she merely laughed derisively in response.

For a moment she thought Gilbert was going to merely turn around and walk away, his expression had turned so tense and resentful. But she was very wrong about that.

Because the next thing she knew was that he was kissing her breathless, her face held firmly between his calloused hands, and she – God help and forgive her – was kissing him right back, overwhelmed by the wild way in which her entire body responded to the pressure of his mouth on her own.

And then, when Gilbert pulled her even closer and pushed her lips open with his tongue, and she heard herself gasp at the at once pleasurable and painful sensation it caused her to feel somewhere very deep in those parts of her body she usually refrained from thinking about at all, she realised just what and with whom she was doing.

She wrenched herself away, and on an impulse of burning anger – not so much against him as against herself – she struck him a quick, incisive blow on the cheek.


	6. my kingdom come undone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *exile by t. swift playing softly in the background*

All this time  
I never learned to read your mind ( _Never learned to read my mind_ )  
I couldn't turn things around ( _You never turned things around_ )  
'Cause you never gave a warning sign ( _I gave so many signs_ )  
**So many signs, so many signs** _  
_

***

‘How dare you!’ Anne cried, fairly screeching. Gilbert stared right back at her, his expression stricken and his face ashen. ‘You— _you cad_!’

‘Anne—‘ he began, reaching out to grasp her hand and refusing to let go even when she instantly tried to wrench it away. ‘Anne, don’t do it. You can’t do it. You’ll ruin both our lives, and for what?’

‘ _Both_ our lives?’ she jeered, internally wondering at her own ability to talk in this cruel way to a person she cared about more than anyone. ‘You mean, you’ll feel sad for a while because I’ve cheated you of your chance to play with me a little longer by marrying someone else?’

‘Play with you?’ His voice was a mixture of confusion and exasperation. ‘Anne, you know very well what I feel for you is for real.’ The expression in his eyes as he said it hurt Anne physically. She turned her face away. ‘It always has been, ever since I first saw you. You ran away from me then, but I won’t let you do it again.’

‘Let me?’ she repeated, looking back up with a twisted, defiant frown. ‘Gilbert, you don’t seem to realise you are in no position to order me about. Really—‘

A slight flush rose to his pale face. ‘That’s not what I meant, and you know it. Anne,’ his voice softened suddenly, and Anne involuntarily raised her eyes to his. ‘Anne, dearest Anne, just tell me what to do to make this right, and I swear I will—I’ll do anything—I—‘

Emboldened by the hazy look which came into her eyes as she gazed into his earnest, pleading ones, Gilbert put up a gentle hand to her cheek. For a split second, Anne revelled in the sensation of his skin on hers. Then she felt him move a few inches closer, and forced herself to push him away.

‘For God’s sake, stop it!’ she hissed, blood rushing up to her face so rapidly she could hear it ring in her ears and felt dizzy. ‘You really don’t take in anything I say to you, do you? I’m marrying Roy, and since it is thanks to him that I will be able to continue at Redmond, I must ask you not to say another offensive word about him.’

Gilbert let out an exasperated snort. ‘Anne, will you kindly cut out this nonsense about how you’re only going to be able to go on studying by the bloke’s gracious permission? It really does not sound like a convincing reason to marry, you know.’

‘Not by his permission, by his help!’ Anne retorted recklessly, regretting the words as soon as they left her mouth.

‘By his help?’ Gilbert repeated, bewildered, his eyes searching her face intently. ‘Anne, are you seriously saying you’re marrying him _for his money_?’

‘Of course not!’ Anne snapped indignantly, her eyes flashing steel in the dusk. Put in bare, unqualified word like this, it sounded dreadful, and she had to cover it up somehow with whatever cruelty it took to make it better. ‘I’m marrying him because he’s always put me first, and never made me feel like I was not good enough, and never put me through the humiliation of being pitied and ridiculed for hoping he wanted me when all along I was just a distraction.’

Gilbert’s face took on a kind of haunted, rigid look. ‘Meaning I made you feel all that?’

‘I—‘ she faltered, almost scared by the change in his look and manner. ‘Gilbert, let’s not talk about this anymore. It can’t possibly change anything now—‘

‘Yes, it can!’ he interrupted hotly, shaking off his momentary stupor and once again catching hold of both her hands. ‘It’s not too late yet, Anne. I love you – you know that. And,’ his voice shook as little, but he went all just the same, his eyes holding hers captive. 'I know that care for me as well. I know you do – don’t you, Anne, my dearest darling Anne?’

Anne merely looked back at him, her eyes gone from steel to limpid pools of gray, her heart beating so hard she thought she was going to suffocate.

Gilbert bent down and captured her trembling lips in his. It was a soft, tentative kiss, quite unlike the desperate one of a few moments ago. It was almost without any conscious decision to do so that she reciprocated the caress, and this time she didn’t break it off either. Gilbert did.

‘Sweetheart, don’t cry,’ he whispered, and she was startled to realise there were tears in her eyes which made him look blurry and which she had to blink away.

He lifted his fingers to her cheek and brushed the moisture away with a heartbreaking tenderness. ‘It will be all right, you’ll see,’ he said softly, sounding as though he was afraid of breaking the spell which seemed to surround them. ‘Don’t bother about what people will say – I’ll stand by you all through it. And you’ll finish your studies all right. I’ll give you the money—‘

A shock, as though of electricity, went through Anne’s entire body. She flinched away from where his fingers were still caressing her face, and asked sharply,

‘What? What are you talking about?’

Gilbert looked bewildered. ‘The money—for college. I’ll give it to you—‘

‘Give it to me?’ she repeated, shaking off his hold on her hand and taking a step away. ‘Are you out of your mind? I could never accept it!’

He went a little paler, but spoke quite calmly still. ‘I’ll lend it to you, then.’

‘ _Lend it_? You know very well I could not repay a sum like that if I did nothing but work myself sick for the next sixty years!’

‘What the hell does it matter?’ he demanded with rising impatience, taking a step closer. ‘I don’t care whether you pay it back or not! No, that’s not true – I don’t want you to pay it back! The only thing I want is for you to be happy, and to be—‘

‘To be tied to you by a debt I could never redeem, is that what you mean?’ she cut in, tears of anger stinging the back of her eyes. ‘Did you seriously think you could buy me?’

‘Buy you?’ he repeated, his voice laced with incredulous bitterness. ‘I don’t want to buy you. I want to love you, and make you happy. It’s Gardner who’s buying you, and from what you’ve just told me he's doing it with your explicit blessing! You don’t seem to mind accepting _his_ money!’

‘Because it’s not the same thing at all!’

‘Yeah?’ he rejoined, seething with bitterness. ‘Why?’

_Because he’s got so much money he doesn’t know what to do with it, and he never lifted a finger to earn it either. Because I don’t care if he thinks I married him for it. I despise him, and his opinion means nothing to me. But yours means the world. And I would never forgive myself if giving me money meant you had to give up one some dream or ambition of your own._

‘Because I know he’s not trying to tie me down with the obligation for it,’ she said, untruthfully and illogically.

‘And you think I would?’ Gilbert’s voice was raw with pain and anger. ‘Damn it all, Anne, you know I would never—‘

‘I don’t know anything about you!’ she interrupted. ‘We haven’t seen each other in four years! I’m not who I was back then, and I don’t believe you are either.’ And then, before she could stop herself, ‘If you care so much, why did you never try to contact me all this time?’

‘Because—‘ he swallowed thickly, and she cut in once again,

‘Because your engagement to a debutante who’d provide you with a rich father-in-law was the only thing you really did care about - as for me, you couldn’t even be bothered to tell me about it to my face when I practically asked you to out right!’

He stared uncomprehendingly, which unnerved her further, but before she could lash out again he said somewhat hoarsely,

‘Tell you—about it? But I did tell you—at least, in the letter, I wrote you I never did ask Winnie to marry me—I told you I never cared about her like I did about you—‘

It was Anne’s turn to stare. She thought she must have heard him wrong, but felt unable to ask him to clarify, and presently he went on, still more quietly,

‘And then you never acknowledged that letter—never wrote me—and I thought you didn’t care, and I tried to move on—all those years—‘

Anne found her voice, though it was rather less firm than she could wish.

‘Exactly! All those years! For all you knew I might have been married already—I practically am—‘

‘You’re _not_!’ he retorted, his eyes blazing into hers. ‘That’s the point, Anne! You’re not! You— _we_ can still make it right!’

‘This—this is absurd,’ Anne stammered, hardly knowing what she was saying, her mind vaguely distressed about what Gilbert had said about the letter. Had what she destroyed in a moment of wanton spite an actual love confession? ‘How did you even know I'd still be here?‘ she asked, desperately catching hold of a more or less down-to-earth question just to keep sane. 'I might have moved away, I might have done - I don't even know, _anything_.'

‘It was Diana. We wrote regularly,’ he said it rapidly, as though impatient to get this minor point out of the way. ‘She—she knew I cared, I don’t know how, but she did. She let me know about you, and since she always said you did not seem interested in anybody I managed to convince myself I was kind of moving on—‘ he swallowed thickly, and went on in an increasingly passionate tone, ‘But I haven’t. I knew that I soon as I saw you on that platform, even before Gardner told me you two were engaged.'

‘But if Diana told you about everything— and I've been engaged all these months-‘ she stopped, and some spark came back into her confused eyes. ‘You do have the nerve, to barge in at the last moment like this!’

Gilbert’s jaw tightened.

‘She didn’t tell me _everything_. She kept your engagement to Gardner back. But—I don’t know, I suppose she wanted to have a clear conscience, because she wired me last week, and said I was to come as quickly as I could. She said no one was ill – I suppose she put that in so that I wouldn’t get all worked up – but she said I must come before this week was out. And, Anne,’ he added with a small break in his voice, getting another step towards her, ‘I’m so glad I did come. Imagine I came next week—‘

‘I wish to God you did!’ she exclaimed, as stupefaction gave way to indignation with Diana and anger with things in general for having turned out so terribly wrong. ‘I wish you had stayed away, since you evidently had no difficulty in doing so for _four godforsaken years_!’

‘That was because I was sure you didn’t want me around!’ Gilbert snapped back. ‘You acted as though you never got my letter at all, not even to tell me you didn’t care—‘

Anne felt as though she was drowning, drowning in resentment against him for blaming her and fury at herself for having been a spiteful, silly goose who had crossed out the chance of – perhaps a lifetime’s – happiness because she couldn’t control herself.

But she was wiser now, and control herself she could – and would.

‘That’s exactly right,’ she said, her voice unnaturally level and quiet. ‘I _don’t_ care. Not in the way you mean. So please,’ she put up a hand to prevent Gilbert from interrupting her as he took a sharp breath and opened his mouth, ‘just let me go home. I’m so terribly tired. I don’t want to argue anymore. I don’t want to be enemies. All I want is some peace. And if I may ask you one thing—‘

‘Anne— I’m begging you—‘

‘Please, don’t go complaining to Diana about my reaction to her—helpfulness,’ she couldn’t help giving a slightly ironical tinge to the word. ‘I want to have it out with her myself.’

‘Don’t you see she only wanted to help?’ Gilbert asked, and both his face and tone were openly desperate now. ‘She—she knew you’re the only girl who’s ever really mattered to me—Anne _, please_ —‘

She shook her head again, dropping her eyes and backing away from him.

‘Goodnight, Gil. And please, don’t go after me.’

And with that, she disappeared at a quick pace down the shadowy path.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok but folklore is the new shirbert soundtrack. I mean, 
> 
> "I'd swing with you for the fences  
> Sit with you in the trenches  
> Give you my wild, give you a child (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)  
> Give you the silence that only comes when two people understand each other  
> Family that I chose, now that I see your brother as my brother  
> Would it be enough if I could never give you peace?" 
> 
> if this isn't an accurate description of their relationship, I don't know what is


End file.
